


fifth day turning point

by vanitaslaughing



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Raised Apart, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: He awakes in a hospital without his memories, with one eye damaged beyond repair, and with people telling him that he was in an accident. An accident that killed his parents, and now his mother's childhood friend will help raise him. Least he can do is become part of the army, even if he winds up a strategist while his adoptive brother becomes a soldier.Ignis is ten when his life really begins.Ignis is twenty-two when he's sent to Lucis with the nobles that will be accompanying Emperor Aldercapt to the peace treaty signing to be held in the royal capital Insomnia. His mission?Kill the kingdom's prince to deal a devastating blow to any resistance.He gets two weeks to befriend the young man in the wheelchair - and somehow, he starts realising that this might be harder than anticipated.





	1. The Strategist

_They laugh together as the car convoy continues. The boy is tired, yes, but he leans against the woman with a big smile while he laments the fact they didn’t bring a bottle or something of the sort to catch some of these fireflies. Out here, where the Wall glimmers in the distance. This last part of Insomnia that is not covered by it because of the way it retracted not too long ago._

_He closes his eyes for a second, and the boy grabs his hand. It’s warm, familiar – comforting._

_Just before he can say anything with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, the car comes to a screeching halt. Somewhere out there the night is set ablaze, and he blinks his eyes open just in time to see the reason why._

_Some creature he only saw in books before this night, towering over the remains of the first cars in the convoy._ _There’s a second where he wonders if this is just a nightmare, that they’re about to arrive back at home, that his family that reluctantly let him go on that trip is getting him out of the car as he dreams this nonsense. The woman starts muttering to him and the other boy. She gets them out of the car, just barely in time before a sword descends upon it and more fires split the night sky._

_The stars are so bright._

_So is the glint of the weapon that hits them, sends them tumbling._

_The worst thing is, he thinks, the fact that he’s rolling further. The woman’s squashing the injured boy. He has no weight on top of him, and at the end of the day he’s just a child._

_He stops shortly before that gorge, unable to lift a finger. Every bone in his body feels broken. He can’t open one eye. Everything kind of looks strange._

_The stars and the fires blaze._

_But so do the_ _shimmering and shining weapons that now clash with these blood-soaked swords._

_There’s a final push that sends a tremor across the ground. The ground that gives way under him. One of these men yells his name as the entire earth shifts and crumbles._

_Just like the daemon he_ _topples_ _into that dark, dark hole._

* * *

The voices were extremely muffled, like the people speaking were talking into a heavy wool blanket. Whatever they were discussing, they were speaking in a language he barely understood – or maybe he was just too out of it still. Somehow he recognised that this was a hospital room, that out of the five people in the room one was a doctor and two were nurses. The woman he identified as doctor looked kind of important, with that scowl on her face as she discussed with these other two men.

The conversation came to a grinding halt when one of the nurses realised that he was awake. The silence was almost a little awkward, but eventually he realised two things.

One, he had no idea where he was.

Two, he had no idea _who_ any of the people in the room were – himself included.

The other thing that he realised right after that horrible thing was the fact that he couldn’t see properly, and instead of saying anything he moved a hand onto his face. Bandages. For some reason a voice in the back of his head immediately told him that head injuries like this, on top of whatever else he had, likely required surgery to save his life. Which meant that he truly owed these people his life. Whoever they were. Whoever he was.

“… Thank you,” he whispered, and the awkward silence turned into shocked silence, “for saving me.”

Even the voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

The people started talking in hushed voices again, urgently discussing something. The only bits and pieces he caught through that dull headache of his was something about language. Eventually the doctor shook her head and tore herself away from that group, gestured at one of the men who wasn’t a nurse, and then walked over to his bed.

He couldn’t remember ever having seen hair as fair as hers. Then again he could not recall ever meeting anyone in his life.

“Good to see you awake. Is there anything I can do for you?”

At first he almost wanted to ask for a glass of water. Instead he kept his gaze on her for a moment, not entirely certain what it was that he wanted. Something deep within him wanted to ask something, about… someone. But he had no idea what it was, why he wanted to ask about a person he didn’t even know. So instead of saying anything, he simply stared at her, likely with a dumb expression on his face, judging by the way she furrowed her eyebrows after a while.

“Is there a chance you can tell me your name?”

The question was met with silence. The more he tried to answer her, the more violent his dull headache became. He desperately wanted to answer her, wanted to say anything. Even just the first name that came to his mind, really, but he had nothing. A sharp sting went through his head, and he covered his eyes with a whimper, completely ignoring the fact that one was already bandaged to begin with. He couldn’t answer. He had no idea who he was, where he was.

The doctor turned around, started talking to the men in the room once more. Something about how injuries like that usually ended with loss of memory, but a kind that meant people remembered how to speak, how to do most things – just that anything about them was gone; and in some cases would never return.

There was something floating about in that deep, dark abyss that his memories were, swirling below the surface. A name that he couldn’t recall, someone calling it but he had absolutely no face to go with it. His parents? It had to be his parents, right? Siblings, perhaps? Were they even alive? Was one of the people in this room his relative, come to see if this last remnant of a dead family would also die?

One of the men who wasn’t a nurse moved.

He had a feeling that this man was dangerous just from looking into his eyes once, but the man only waved at him.

“A pity, truly, but we ought to be grateful you survived that horrid accident.” The voice at least immediately soothed his fears. Something about that made him sound like a man who could do no bad thing – it was calm, it was friendly. Even that smile seemed to reach his eyes now. Or maybe he was just projecting a completely different image onto this man for some reason.

“An… accident?” It was barely more than a croak, but he felt like this man might answer some of his questions, at least. And he had a few.

“Why else would you be in a hospital bed after undergoing life-saving surgery then?”

He nodded – the man had a point. The one in what looked like a military uniform, the man still talking to the nurses, shifted kind of awkwardly somewhere in the back. Said something to the man – called him Chancellor. The Chancellor turned back around and answered the military man. They were discussing something that he had absolutely no context for, but it definitely concerned him, and where he would be staying.

“E-Excuse me…? I’ll be… staying with him?”

The Chancellor turned to look at him again, this time again with a comforting smile. “Once you’re better, yes.”

“Why?”

The military man cleared his throat. “Because I… you’re… you’re my childhood friend’s son.”

Which meant he had had family. Family that was dead now, and the only person left was this man. A man he likely had known once upon a time, but nothing popped up. It was just the military uniform that left him feeling kind of… uncomfortable.

There was more talk, the Chancellor mentioning that the military man had a son his age and a foster daughter about to leave the house, and while tragic that it wound up like this it would at least ensure that neither of the boys were alone in the coming days. Eventually he said that it was about time they left, that a man he called ‘His Radiance’ needed them, but before the man could leave, he made some sort of embarrassingly distressed noise.

“No, wait! Please, I…”

Both men stopped.

“My… my name. What’s my name?”

* * *

_The military man’s son is definitely glaring at him from around a corner. At least until that young woman slaps him on the back of his head._

“ _Behave now, will you?”_

_The boy’s blonde, clearly the same age as he is, but quite small for a kid his age. There’s something uncanny about how similar they look, which the young woman notes immediately. She only laughs about it, says that maybe the rumours are true. Which only make the boy go from sulking to openly brooding, and she crosses her arms._

“ _Come on now, you don’t buy all that hogwash these people have been feeding you, do you?”_

_He’s confused, but those two start bickering like they’re siblings now. He almost desperately wishes something would trigger his memories – if that military man was friends with his mother, then surely these two should know him? Were they not… childhood friends as well?_

_Eventually that woman comes over, offers him a hand and a radiant smile._

“ _Anyway, it’ll take Loqi a bit to warm up to you since you’re new and he hates new people with a burning passion. Don’t let that bother you, uh...”_

_He takes her hand with a small smile. “Ignis.”_

“ _Kind of an uncommon name, huh.”_

_The military man’s son, Loqi, snorts. “As if Aranea’s any more common!”_

_Ignis blinks a few times, then starts laughing as Aranea hurls herself across the room in a single bound and grabs Loqi. She swings him around, and he lets out an undignified squeak hardly befitting a ten year old with such a serious face._

_He can’t remember if he had siblings who did something similar. Can’t remember if his parents did something like that. But it’s refreshing to see actual people other than hospital staff and Loqi’s father._

* * *

On the fifth anniversary of the empire taking down the Glacian, he met the Oracle.

Or rather, the Oracle was escorted to the manor as distinguished guest, by the Chancellor of Niflheim no less. There was a proud glint in her eyes as she followed the man, seemingly ignoring the fact that there were several soldiers stationed around to just ensure security and to keep track of her. In the five years of his life with the Tummelts, he had to admit she was the first person outside of the family he lived with who looked… not like a parody of a human being. She was definitely alive, and though her mother had been murdered by the very empire – there was no sweet-talking it, not even the normally proud Loqi could deny it – she still held her head high against the insurmountable odds she faced. Those blue eyes seemed to spark whenever she met a new face, whenever she saw another soldier stationed in plain view. She knew there was no escape, but she also was not planning on being all sweet and coy about it.

The complete opposite of her brother, whom Ignis had met several times at this point. Just like Loqi and him, he had been in military training when they were admitted when they were twelve. They hadn’t exactly spent much time with him, but it was clear that this man with the dead eyes was hell-bent on getting as far as humanely possible as prince of a fallen nation. Then afterwards, after he had left the academy and had been promoted, after he had seen his fair share of battles of some sort or another – daemon take-downs, scavenger hunts in old ruins, once he even accompanied Aranea who had her fair share of complaints about him and his attitude. Ignis had noted that his dead eyes somehow looked even more hollow.

For some reason he had expected the man’s younger sister to look equally hollow.

She was a thunderstorm waiting to be released, a warning that the winds of Tenebrae would never blow in favour of the god-slaying empire.

But she somehow managed to remain gentle and polite throughout the entire meeting, to the point that even the normally hostile Loqi started being friendly to her after a few words. Ignis would have more called it them exchanging blows, since Loqi had little to no respect for his elders. Even if Lunafreya Nox Fleuret was not exactly an adult.

It wasn’t until she addressed him that he said anything during that entire dinner.

“We’ve not been introduced to one another, have we?”

He put down the knife he had been playing with prior to that and bowed his head. Her country being part of the empire or not, she was still a princess and the Oracle no less. A woman who deserved respect, no, demanded it with her existence alone. She was _radiant._

“Ah. Indeed we have not.” He kept his head bowed. “Ignis, Lady Oracle.”

“Just… Ignis? Is there a chance--”

It seemed rather strange for her to latch onto that, since last names were only something the higher-ups in Niflheim had. Commoners usually had something that could substitute as last name if they enrolled in the military, but otherwise ever since the wars had begun, common last names had vanished for the most part all across the country.

Loqi’s father also put down his silverware, about to say something, but it was Chancellor Izunia who interrupted that conversation before she could ask whatever she was about to ask.

“Surely you of all people should know that commoners do not have precise last names in Niflheim, dearest Lunafreya.”

She looked like she bit into something sour for a moment, then turned her head slightly to acknowledge the man speaking. “Of course. I had forgotten.”

“Either way, much like the Commodore in the making you met on your way here, Highwind, this boy is a commoner with no need for a name. But the people of this household call him Sagefire when they need to address him formally.”

There was always this unspoken tension in the room whenever the conversation came to Ignis’ social standing – or his inability to remember anything from before the accident, really. Lunafreya looked embarrassed and thanked Ignis for telling her his name, then continued eating slowly. Loqi looked tense, almost like he was bristling; despite their rocky start the two of them became fast friends and Loqi considered him family just as much as he considered Aranea a general nuisance and almost his older sister. It is the head of House Tummelt who always looks the worst when the conversation got to this point, but this time he was _clearly_ glaring at the Chancellor. There was something here that really made Ignis uncomfortable.

He never saw that man glare like this. That way, his relation to his son becomes apparent; they did not look much alike, but their glares were almost identical. Chancellor Izunia was either ignoring the man or gleefully ignoring him, continuing a casual conversation about the state of the country and how the war was going.

Poor Lunafreya looked like she wanted to vanish, her unspoken question clearly weighing on her mind.

Ignis never got to ask her what she wanted to ask, because she was immediately escorted out of the mansion, still shooting her proud looks at the soldiers but her shoulders slightly slumped.

“Man, that was weird.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, it really was, Loqi,” Ignis agreed quietly as they watched the Chancellor shepherd the Oracle into an airship that had one of the strangest colour jobs they had ever seen.

* * *

“ _Tummelt will be piloting a craft from here on out. He lacks the field experience, yes, but he’s got talent and blew all simulation records clear out of the water.”_

_Loqi, eighteen now, holds himself perfectly still. The fact that he’s the happiest he’s ever been is evident on his face – the only other time Ignis saw him being that happy was two years ago when his father praised him for his progress. After all, all members of the Tummelt family are prodigies in some regard. Even those not related by blood._

_The military man looks at Ignis now, and he straightens his back a little. He never expects much of the arms – somehow it feels wrong to fight like this, without nuance, without a cause he really believes in. Niflheim is his home, yes, but he’s not happy about the war at all. Several other commoners share that thought, and every time Ignis remembers that he recalls that he is a commoner as well. Now a young man without a last name, without any surviving family to speak of._

“ _Sagefire, was it?”_

“ _Yes, sir.”_

“ _Well, you did not make the cut but… the Chancellor personally requested to check over your results together with some strategists and… well. You are unfit for the military as field soldier. But you excel in strategic thinking, which is why your results are so… poor compared to your… brother?”_

_That’s what they call them. That’s what Loqi and Ignis call each other – brothers. They don’t call Aranea ‘big sis’; she’s eight years older than them after all. But they’re both the same age, with Ignis celebrating his birthday on the day that Loqi’s father said it was._

“ _Either way, Chancellor Izunia personally requested you to be introduced as upcoming wartime strategist. Your military field training and examinations will prove handy in the long run, he said.”_

_Strategists only need to worry about victories, not about losses. Ignis always worries about them._

_Loqi looks mildly disappointed when they part way in Zegnautus Keep a week later, but he still manages to shake that disappointment off._

“ _Let’s show ‘em what we can do!”_

_Ignis gives him a thumbs up, and Loqi replies in kind._

_That’s the last time he sees this man he considers his brother smile in earnest._

* * *

Strategists worked closely with certain other people. For some reason, the Chancellor seems almost insistent to always be around whenever Ignis has to come up with a battle plan, and before long, he can count one Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim, to his… for a lack of better words, friend circle. Not that Ignis had one to begin with.

The man was definitely more intelligent than he let on. Whether His Radiance the Emperor knew any of that or not, Ignis had no idea, but sometimes he caught Ardyn going over his battle plans and adjusting things ever so slightly and it caused a domino effect on the predicted battlefield. The entire Niff army annihilated by the Kingsglaive in that particular part because they underestimated the power of magic just a little too much. An entire natural bridge across a canyon smashed because of the sheer weight of that much Magitek infantry calculated into the general combat damage. Ignis quickly realised that Ardyn was definitely in the wrong position; that man could have turned the war with a flick of the hand if he wanted to.

So he tacked himself to the Chancellor, quoted his interest in politics as the reason. Something was fascinating about the man, and that wasn’t just the fact that he had been there when Ignis first woke.

Loqi’s father seemed less than pleased with that development. When Ignis finally worked up the courage to ask, he got a simple answer.

“He was the one who… rescued you.”

That was a detail that Ignis had not known about. Very quickly he learned that Ardyn was more than just an excellent politician and excellent strategist. The man had so much general medicine knowledge that Ignis had to ask if he had studied it in the past.

Ardyn only laughed at that, said that it wasn’t really all that important.

It continued like that for a while.

Ignis was twenty-one when he met Emperor Aldercapt for the first time, and something deep within him stirred that day. Something that was terrified, something that was disgusted, something that told him to run away and report what he heard in that meeting.

But report it to who, he wondered. There was just the vaguest of outlines that his mind conjured up; a man with his back to him and absolutely no defining features other than the fact that it was dark. By the gods, was it dark in that place. A bright flash of blue made him snap his eyes open in his own bed.

Had that been his father? But no, Tummelt always said that his father had been a commoner. That man in this very confusing dream after meeting the emperor had looked important. Very few commoners would hold themselves with their head this high even when they weren’t looking at someone – kind of like… Lady Lunafreya. Royalty, then? But Deputy High Commander Fleuret was six years older than Ignis. Not even as teenager he would look like this, especially since he always looked just as radiant as his sister, but in a slightly more sinister way. As if that light could expunge all things good in this world when partnered together with his incredibly hollow-looking eyes. Emperor Aldercapt had no heirs.

Who, then? Some noble? Why would Ignis know some noble man when he was just a commoner, a commoner they all called Sagefire? To a point that even the Lucians were starting to throw that name around because Sagefire strategies generally meant an overwhelming loss would be coming for them?

He pinched the bridge of his nose in his bed that day.

He really had no idea. Absolutely none.

* * *

“ _Wait! Ardyn! You mean… you actually mean Lucis agreed to this nonsense?”_

_The Chancellor stopped. The meeting that been unceremoniously dismissed, and something about the way the Chancellor moves tells Ignis that he really isn’t too happy with this. Four years on the battlefield made Loqi a hardened soldier, four years behind the front lines made Ignis someone who could rub shoulders with the higher ups. But most of all, he trusts the Chancellor._

“ _They indeed did.”_

“ _That’s ridiculous!”_

“ _They have their backs to the wall, Ignis.”_

_Still, he can’t believe it. After they deployed these monstrosities that Besithia created, Lucis had fled with their tails between their legs. Emperor Aldercapt had dispatched Ardyn as an emissary of sorts to deliver ‘terms of peace’. Terms of conditional surrender, as Loqi called them just the night before, nearly snapping his tools clean in half._

“ _Still, it doesn’t really make sense.”_

“ _It doesn’t, does it? Well, you have to consider that they’re trying to keep face. Their losses in the last years in particular have been overwhelmingly devastating. The Wall can keep them safe, yes, but for how much longer? With King Regis’ condition clearly deteriorating further and further, and with Prince Noctis’ disability they cannot rely on the Wall alone. And they know that. Hence why they agreed. Really, they could have made much worse moves.”_

_Prince Noctis of Lucis. The prince they called Chosen, despite the fact he has been unable to walk since the day an accident nearly claimed his life. Their stories are kind of similar in that regard, Ignis always said and raised a hand to his blind eye. It doesn’t really bother him since he had no memory whatsoever of what it was like to have two, but he also refuses to wear an eyepatch. He wants people to see that he overcame this and made it this far based on no small amount of skill and some luck._

_Ardyn scowls._

“ _Besides, there’s something His Radiance wants me to tell you. You’re to accompany us to Lucis for the peace talks. Tummelt, too.”_

“ _T-Tummelt senior or Tummelt junior?”_

“ _Junior,” Ardyn hisses and pokes a finger into Ignis’ forehead. “You’ll have a mission once we arrive there.”_

“ _And that would be?”_

“ _Gain Prince Noctis’ trust. Befriend him in those two weeks we’re staying in Lucis.”_

“ _With all due respect, Chancellor, that seems hardly--”_

_For a moment, a most terrifying expression flashes across Ardyn’s face as he removes his finger. Then he turns to the window in this particular hallway in Zegnautus Keep, and watches the sunset. Not long until the daemons that they regularly dispatch Aranea to gather for research come crawling out to terrorise the landscapes._

“ _Kill him on the day of the signing ceremony.”_

“… _Kill him?”_

“ _His Radiance wants to deal a crushing blow to King Regis. Whether we take the Crystal and the Ring of the Lucii or not, he says, it matters little. But he wants to ensure that Lucis is in absolutely no condition to fight back. What better way to crush the spirits of a king and his people than by killing his son?”_

_Ardyn leaves._

_Ignis keeps standing there as the sun sets, shaking as if someone had just told him to kill his own brother. He doesn’t really figure out why is that is._


	2. The Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the problem with writing and playing ff14 is that every time there's an even-numbered patch coming in i completely vanish for a couple days  
> sticks leg out
> 
> i wanted to have this done last week but beggars, choosers, tomestone/omega loot/suzaku ex clear woes

_When he first opens his eyes, he sees his father’s face. Somehow, that sets his mind at ease for the time being, the fact that he can’t feel half his body and his arms feel impossibly heavy all aside._

_It isn’t until a week after, when his father’s pushing him around the Citadel in his wheelchair that he asks something he noticed recently. There’s no denying the nanny is dead, no matter how much he adored her. Even a child his age understands what death means._

_But the more terrifying prospect is that Ignis, who was in the car with them, also remains absent. He definitely saw Ignis before his father entered the scene and his vision started going blurry and the sounds of that night started vanishing. He definitely recalls someone calling for Ignis just a moment before his father cries his name._

_His father pauses, the light pouring into the hallway through the silky and transparent curtains giving the whole place an odd atmosphere._

“ _Ignis.”_

“ _Yes, dad. I asked where he… is. Is he asleep still? Can I sit by his bedside like you sat beside mine? He promised we’d finish that book once we were back--”_

_It isn’t often that he can feel the sadness radiating off his father. But right now he feels like he drowns in it, and it doesn’t help that Clarus is approaching them, likely with some important message that requires the king to be present somewhere – at least that would explain why Gladio follows his father for once. After all, Noctis can’t move around on his own quite yet._

“ _Ignis,” Regis repeats, and the Amicitias stop dead in their tracks._

“ _...”_

“ _He’s… not here.”_

“ _Like Miss Celaeno?”_

_His father’s grip on the wheelchair tightens a bit when Noctis turns around to look at his father. At least the Amicitias are moving again, with Clarus stopping just beside Noctis’ father and Gladio somewhere behind his father. “We don’t know, Noctis. He’s… gone. We couldn’t find him. I promise you we are looking for him with as much manpower as we can spare but… he’s not here. For now.”_

_Noctis blinks._

_Had he imagined someone calling for Ignis then? Most of his memory of that night is fuzzy, he can barely remember anything to begin with. All he remembers is that Ignis promised that they’d finish that book once they were back. A promise he made in the car shortly before Noctis dozed off leaning against his nanny. If he closes his eyes he can see that soft smile Ignis always wears when he and Noctis are alone._

_But he’s not here._

_Noctis tilts his head at Gladio as their fathers leave._

* * *

Tenebrae was supposed to help him.

Not the people of Tenebrae, but the country itself. Yet Noctis saw nothing but plumes of smoke rise into the evening skies, heard nothing but the rattle of weapons that were drawn, ready to strike should the need arise. If even one person told any of the Niffs where the Lucians were, this tourist ship would be their watery grave – at least that was what Clarus said, something that Noctis clearly was not supposed to hear but heard regardless.

He could still see Lunafreya letting go of his dad’s hand and vanishing between gaggles of storming soldiers. He could still _hear_ that absolutely despaired screech Ravus let out as Regis started running, could still see the Oracle throw herself between the fire threatening to consume her entire world and her beloved son. He clung to the single book that waited for them on the tourist cruiser where the Lucian soldiers stayed in case they were needed. It was the book that Ignis had brought with him, one of the few keepsakes that Noctis still remembered. Most of the other stuff in the room that Ignis stayed in remains a complete mystery to him.

Ironically, it was Gladio who started telling him what they were. He always said that he wasn’t really part of that small bubble and all that, but mentioned things about the stuff that Noctis did not remember. It did jog his memory occasionally. But this book he remembered as clear as the night skies it portrayed.

He let out a soft whimper as the boat rocked on the heavy waves. The smoke in the distance was starting to get thinner because finally the Niffs are putting out the fires that they sowed. By the time the sun fully set those fires would be out. By the time the fires were out… He hugged the book tighter to himself and tried not to sob out loud.

It were always fires that took the people he cared about. Instead of just Miss Celaeno and Ignis they had also taken the Oracle, Luna and Ravus now. He was _scared._

It wasn’t until they were back in Lucis, back in Insomnia, that people realised that any progress he had made was effectively gone. The people were entirely nonplussed, but when they realised what it was, he saw their expressions go from worried to exasperated. Not his father’s, mind, but all the doctors who had spent hours and days and weeks trying to figure out why the Lucian Prince was back to not being able to move at all.

Surprisingly enough, it was Gladio who leaned down and ruffled Noctis’ hair. Noctis only let out a surprised squeak and tried to get his future Shield’s hand off him. All Gladio did was laugh.

“Well then, Highness.”

“No.”

“Eh?”

“Call me… at least call me Noctis. No Highness.”

That seemed to have completely derailed Gladio’s train of thought – perhaps the 11-year-old future Shield of the future King of Lucis had not expected to be offered first names. They’d always been polite to one another in the rare events that they ever met, and definitely rarely talked outside of these general meetings. Noctis highly suspected that someone had set his future protector up with this.

“And if you’re just here out of pity, go away.”

“Ha. Good one. No, Noctis, I ain’t here ‘cause someone told me to be here, or because someone felt bad about you. I was on my way to the training rooms when I saw you and y’know what? Come with me.”

Noctis only gestured vaguely. “I can’t walk.”

“Doesn’t matter – I need someone to throw things into my general direction. Can you do that?”

He blinked. “I mean, sure, I--”

“That’s decided then! Well, let’s get going.”

Out of all people, he would have expected Gladiolus Amicitia to treat him the worst for some reason. He always took his training serious, always made certain that everyone treated him with enough respect for someone of his station and his powers. And he had been supposed to train Noctis after Tenebrae, just so Noctis was not the only young person around the Citadel. Noctis had been expecting disappointment that the prince still could not stand up by himself and definitely did not stand at all when propped up on his legs from the future Shield.

He’d not expected an afternoon where he really laughed for the first time since Tenebrae when Gladio missed a ball that Noctis tossed and it bounced off the wall behind him and onto his shoulder.

* * *

“ _Pryna!”_

“ _Pryna?”_

_It has been three weeks since he’d last seen that dog. She barks happily and comes bouncing over, the boy who had been trying to put up a flyer with her on it looking startled enough that Gladio behind Noctis snorts._

“ _S-She’s_ yours?”

_Noctis vaguely remembers that face. He knows for a fact that this boy went to the same class as him before… everything. He’d not been allowed back in public school, simply out of fear. The public was not a safe place for a prince still recovering from no small amount of trauma. Physical and mental._

“ _I-I’m sorry! Your Highness!” The blonde boy even bows profusely as Pryna happily bounces around Noctis barking up a storm._

_Gladio snorts again. “Well, that explains where that dog went. Any particular reason why she’s with you?”_

_The boy – Prompto, Noctis vaguely remembers – starts stuttering up his story. How he found her injured, how he nursed her back to health, and how now that she’s healthy again he wants to find her owner. Except that he doesn’t have to look for one now, he concludes his story and awkwardly looks away._

_Noctis buries his face in her fur when she jumps onto his lap. Heavens only know why this Messenger chose to appear as puppy now, but she likely has her reasons. Either way, Noctis snorts after a moment._

“ _Thank you. Like, for taking care of her.”_

“ _A-Anytime, Your Highness!”_

_Noctis frowns a little. He does hate that title. Gladio stopped using it, but by the Six he wants that commoner to stop using it as well. It only takes a stern look from Gladio to not make him offer his first name right there, in public._

“ _Say, how is… how’s everyone at… back at school?”_

_Poor Prompto turns red as a beet, and Noctis notices that it’s kind of charming. He’s friendly despite the fact he’s clearly scared out of his mind, and that’s something Noctis can appreciate. It’s not as fake as most people in the Citadel. How… delightfully refreshing._

_Much to Gladio’s chagrin, he offers this commoner his phone number. Just to stay in touch. He says it’s because he wants to know about what public school’s like, and the poor guy turns even redder before Noctis waves to him and tells him to have a good afternoon._

“ _I know what you’re gonna say.”_

“ _I wasn’t going to say anything.”_

“ _But he… he helped Pryna. No one helping a dog like that can be a bad person.”_

“ _No, I agree.” Gladio sighs as he walks beside Noctis, watching the dog trot beside them with an expression that almost says that he half expects her to go up in smoke. “I’m just not sure how I’m gonna explain this to your father.”_

“ _Then don’t.”_

_It isn’t the same as the little secrets he and Ignis shared. He doesn’t remember them – he knows they have been there, but he absolutely cannot remember them. But something about having Gladio roll his eyes and then agreeing with a snort is… familiar. Comfortable._

* * *

Somehow he knew that lately Advisor Scientia had been avoiding him. The first time in several months that Noctis saw the man, he looked like a wreck. And that was putting it nicely.

Finding out why the man looked like that kind of only confirmed something that Noctis had feared since the day his father had told him that they hadn’t found Ignis yet.

They were giving up.

Ignis Scientia was pronounced dead after five years of fruitless searching. Five years during which his mother got so sick that she passed away, five years during which his father lost son and wife and simply packed his things and left his position, his home, the city. No one had a clue where that man had gone, and seeing Advisor Scientia stand there with a stoic calm expression on his face as they pronounced his nephew dead only broke Noctis’ heart further.

He actually went and asked Gladio for help. His Shield, his best friend other than Prompto, reluctantly agreed to take him where Noctis requested.

That room had been positively abandoned. Dust danced in the air, the bed was made and everything was neatly tucked into its designated places as if the person who sometimes slept in that room was only gone for a moment and would be back soon. Gladio left, and Noctis remained where he was, quietly looking at everything. His memory of his childhood had come back in most parts, but some things remained a blank space in his memories. He could remember the comically serious expression Ignis had worn when they were introduced to one another until he offered Noctis a hand. Something about his expression had changed from dire and serious to soft and happy when Noctis took his hand and beamed at him. He did remember all the times he came into this room and just said that he couldn’t sleep, and the times that Ignis came by all by himself, how they went to the highest point of the Citadel they could with two blankets and a book under Ignis’ arms.

He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until the moment the door opened. He turned his head to look, and the man froze,

“My… my apologies.”

Advisor Scientia.

Noctis sniffled a little and shook his head.

“No need to… apologise. I should be the one apologising.” He was the one intruding, technically. This room was just about the last remainder of Ignis Scientia as a person who definitely lived – and this man might as well be the last living relative.

The man was likely more heartbroken than he let on, and Noctis was not going to pry it out of him. It couldn’t have been easy for him; especially what with life in the Citadel moving on as if nothing but Prince Noctis’ injury had ever happened. The first time someone did not recognise Miss Celaeno’s name Noctis had thrown a tantrum soothed only by Gladio’s presence. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would be for relatives of these people. As if that accident hadn’t taken too many lives, and had taken a child just barely older than Noctis too. But no one ever seemed to remember Ignis Scientia, the boy who had been destined to become the future king’s shadow just as Advisor Scientia here was. Ignis would not be advising anyone. Would never be finishing that book. Would never get to see the stars outside of the Wall once that war was over as he said, with that gentle smile on his face and the belief that Lucis could still win it.

Noctis sniffled again, and the man walked up to stand beside his wheelchair, put a hand on his shoulder.

“How about neither of us apologise, Your Highness?”

He nodded, and the man sighed gently.

Really, if it weren’t for all the dust, this room truly looked like its owner would back in just a moment to grab something from the neatly ordered shelves. Noctis did choke up a little when he saw something he distinctly remembered scribbling and handing it to Ignis with the biggest, proudest smile, proclaiming that he’d drawn them together somewhere outside the Wall. Stargazing and all that. Though he’d said ‘starglazing’ back then, and Ignis had snorted and said that he’d love to go with him.

“Have you… ever heard anything from his father again?”

The man stiffened a little and removed his hand from Noctis’ shoulder. “Unfortunately not. My brother-in-law just vanished, much like his son did.”

“Do you think he’s still alive?”

“I do. He’s likely still looking for… Ignis. Somewhere.”

He knew that his father would have turned the entire planet upside down if it had been Noctis who had gone missing that night. He knew that his father had done everything he could have, but having to choose between looking for a kid that might be dead or being able to save his own son who was bleeding to death in that very moment, Noctis had come to terms with King Regis’ choice being the more logical. After all, Noctis was the only heir to the throne, supposedly the Chosen who would bring peace to Eos at some point. Between the fate of the planet and a kid who had sworn himself into the service of said Chosen after they had become best friends, well. Noctis would have made the same choice, as much as it hurt him to come to terms with that.

But still, seeing this now only made the choice seem more grave than it actually was in the end. Ignis had been a nobody, a servant at best despite his noble heritage. A boy with an interest in history and the stars above their heads, who enjoyed reading bedtime stories to his best friend even long after said best friend learned how to read himself.

A boy Noctis barely remembered at this point.

While his general memories returned, those of Ignis, as a person, were fading. After all, how was he supposed to remember someone who wasn’t there any longer? There was just this one photo on the desk, covered in dust just like everything else in this room, that showed Noctis and this other kid he barely recognised. Light brown hair, glasses on his face, and wide-toothed smile. Noctis had no idea when it was taken, why it was taken. It looked like it was one of the gardens at least.

Both he and Advisor Scientia left with a heavy sigh. The man helped him up the stairs that led to the elevators in this particular wing of the Citadel, however.

* * *

“ _That’s nuts.”_

_Prompto crosses his arms as he leans against the wall. He’s not as much brute strength as Gladio, but he’s definitely grown to be kind of tall and intimidating, while losing some but not all weight. He looks like someone who does a lot of sports. Which he does._

_Then again, on second thought, everyone looks tall from Noctis’ position._

“ _I mean, yeah. Isn’t very often you see the Kingsglaive… win.”_

_Gladio grumbles something. It’s not like they don’t know that in the last five years their losses heaped up and up and up comparatively. Someone’s strategically outwitting them, predicting their every move._

“ _Was it… was it the work of Sagefire, though?”_

_No one’s ever seen that fabled strategist. The few prisoners of war they ever managed to take never once said a thing about him as a person, only mentioned what his general policies were that they knew of. All Lucis has right now is a patchwork of information about a man who’s so good at chess that even King Regis has to admit that he’d love to meet that man personally to congratulate him._

“ _Nah.” Gladio crosses his arms. “We know for a fact Sagefire would never drop a god damn daemon on us.”_

“ _True,” Prompto mumbles to his superior, and the three of them exhale in confusion._

_The Crownsguard usually takes care of reconstructing a battlefield to learn from their mistakes. Prompto in particular seems to have a knack for it, one that is only outdone by the highest-ranking members of the Crownsguard like Cor and Clarus and a part of the Kingsglaive elite._

_Nyx Ulric, currently relieved of his duties as Kingsglaive for insubordination, sighs as he stands up and moves a piece representing an airship fleet moving in backwards._

“ _Anyway, their retreat did happen. Saw it with my own damn eyes, Highness.”_

_They continue that conversation for a while, until they come to what transpired today. Of all people, the Chancellor of Niflheim. Nyx Ulric, hero of the Kingsglaive, shrugs._

“ _Border guard dude said let him through, then told me to scram and go back to the Citadel. So here I am.”_

_The two Crownsguard men and the Kingsglaive all sigh deeply, not really certain what to make of this definitely ominous situation. This is, as far as they know, the first time that a high-ranking Niff was ever let beyond the Wall for… for what, exactly? This is precisely what irks Noctis – but he’s not allowed in when the King of Lucis welcomes a foreign attendant of any sort. Doubly so, Gladio muses, because the Prince of Lucis can’t just run away if something goes awry in there._

_Noctis can warp, mind. It doesn’t do him any good, but thanks to the long stamina training he has the ability to hang from a warp point for a ridiculously long time compared to most fully trained Kingsglaives and the king himself._

_But if the opponent has a gun, well. And that seems to be what King Regis fears on this beautifully sunny day._

_Noctis turns around and decides it is high time he leaves that stuffy room. Gladio and Prompto stop their conversation with Nyx and follow him, and Nyx reluctantly also leaves._

_It just seems to be Noctis’ bad luck day. In the hall, just as he turns around, he comes face to face with a man he has never seen before._

_It’s not by any means an unattractive face for a man his age. There’s a certain unkempt charm to it – but that expression he’s wearing is positively frightening. Noctis has not seen a gaze that cold and angry since the days when people were realising that he would never walk again._

“ _Ah, Your Highness Prince Noctis.” He even bows politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”_

“ _Chancellor Izunia, I presume?”_

“ _Yes,” and that smile he puts on definitely does not reach his eyes, “that would be me. What an honour to be recognised by the darling Prince of Lucis!”_

_Gladio behind Noctis audibly grinds his teeth, and the man’s smile changes from empty and fake to somewhat dangerous._

“ _Is there any problem, Lord Amicitia?”_

“ _No. None.” At least Gladio knows how to treat men like Izunia. “I had thought you would already be on your way back to Niflheim.”_

“ _Mhm. I was getting to that.”_

_Prompto fidgets somewhere behind him, and Noctis nods._

“ _Safe travels, Chancellor.”_

_The man bows again, and wishes them a good evening._

_Nyx shudders when the man passes him by._

* * *

For some reason, he found himself thinking about Ignis again for the first time in a while after his father told him what he and the council decided.

“Peace for the sake of having peace seems hardly… ideal,” Noctis whispered into his dark room, but the longer he thought about it, the more he started to realise that they really did not have a choice in that matter.

They had been losing battle after battle, had lost more and more ground. The population outside of the Wall might have been suffering, or they could be thriving under imperial rule – Insomnia and its isolationist behaviour would never hear anything about it if they continued being like that. With terms of peace, no matter how much of a surrender it was, they would at least be able to talk to the rest of the country again. His father would be able to lower the Wall because there was no danger of an attack if there was a ceasefire, no, a surrender and peace afterwards. Even if they would be able to keep the city as their own turf, it was rather clear that Lucis was admitting defeat.

And for what reason?

Noctis had heard the whispers of that day. That King Regis was growing too weak to continue holding up the Wall, that Prince Noctis, useless as he was, would not be able to keep it up once his father passed away.

Noctis threw an arm across his face. “Just call me useless cripple already, I know you all want to.”

Not that anyone but the walls in his room heard.

How exactly his thoughts went to Ignis from there, he had no idea. But for some reason he was absolutely certain that Ignis would have supported him, would have supported the king’s decision just as Advisor Scientia and the Amicitias did. After all, the majority of the council had agreed that this would be the best way to proceed. Why then, why were they trying to pin this loss on Noctis himself rather than on circumstance and the fact that Niflheim simply was an overwhelming force?

He reached for the nightstand he never used. In the drawer there he kept something that had not once left this particular drawer in years, but Noctis always knew it was there.

The book Ignis had said they’d finish together.

“Iggy, what do you think I should be doing? Smile at all of this? Rebel?”

No answer. Naturally.

“Well, whatever I’ll do… Gladio and Prom will have my back. Just as you would’ve had, right? … Right?”

He fought back the urge to cry and instead smacked his face.

“I always said I’d be a prince you and the people could be proud of. Well, this is the perfect opportunity to show that. So I’m gonna do it. I’ll show them, each and every single one of them. I’m not a burden. Have never been one. Those Niffs have no idea they’re about to get flattened by a perfect display of hospitality!”

He almost wanted to start laughing – here he was, talking to a book that once belonged to a kid, a kid who died no less than twelve years ago.

“But… are you really dead? I dunno. These days, I feel like your father had it right. That you’re still out there somewhere. But I can’t leave Insomnia.” Suddenly his face lit up. “No, wait! Couldn’t leave. I’ll be able to leave once the treaty’s done and over with. So, I’ll absolutely woo them with my charms, and then go look for you. That sound good?”

* * *

_The Niffs definitely look impressive, that he will admit. He shared his resolve with Gladio and Prompto, and the two of them agreed that perhaps that was the best way to approach it and then immediately agreed that they’d leave Insomnia with Noctis after that. It’s their little plan for the future, and something that will definitely happen once this treaty is done with and set in stone._

_But these men and women leaving the airship that the Niffs arrived with definitely look intimidating, all of them. Noctis even notices that there’s a lady with them who’s wearing the armour of a dragoon._

_The first meeting is as dry as they come – Lucian black and Niff white clashing violently with one another in that room. The Niffs don’t look happy, and the Lucians don’t look happy either. Some would say that this treaty is under a bad star. But Noctis remains as he is; smiling and answering every question, repeatedly saying that he was happy that they could reach a mutual agreement._

_At least it seems to sway a good amount of people. The dragoon especially nearly starts laughing, and she looks like she wants to reach over and ruffle his hair; Noctis knows because he saw Gladio and Iris more than enough._

“ _You’re a funny guy, Your Highness. Dig the optimism.”_

_The only one who definitely looks angrier is the Emperor himself. Noctis avoids the man to begin with, sticking to his father and to the younger Niffs._

_Either way, by the time the first meeting is over, he finds himself approached by Chancellor Izunia again. He’s followed by two men in definitely expensive-looking uniforms. One of them wrinkles his nose, whispers something to the taller young man and leaves, which Izunia watches with a frown._

“ _Goodness gracious. What a rude display.”_

_The young man who stayed behind shrugs a little._

“ _Either way! A pleasure to meet you again, Prince Noctis.”_

“ _Pleasure’s all mine, Chancellor Izunia. Who’s your friend?”_

_If Gladio were allowed to speak right now, Noctis figured that he would be making jokes about Izunia and his boytoy. But Gladio’s busy standing beside his father as some strange Niff man speaks to Clarus._

“ _Ah,” Izunia says and turns a little, “may I introduce? His Highness Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum – Strategist Sagefire.”_

_Noctis and Sagefire both pause as they look at one another._

_Sagefire seems to be around Noctis’ age; a tall and lean young man with a sharp but extremely attractive face. He looks good in his white uniform, but now that Noctis looks closer he can see that despite his age, Sagefire also seems to have had some sort of horrible accident. One of his eyes is surrounded by a very visible scar, and the eye itself seems to be just about as useful as Noctis considers his legs these days. But the other eye is deep green, and just as sharply aware of his surroundings as his entire body seems to be._

_It is Sagefire who eventually bows, then offers Noctis his hand. He hesitates for a moment, but when he looks back at Sagefire, he sees the first true smile on someone else other than the dragoon from earlier. It kind of stuns him into silence as he takes the hand to shake it._

“ _Good evening, Your Highness.”_

“ _Good… evening, uh.” It’s only then that he realises who Sagefire is. This is the man who outwitted them at nearly every turn. He’s a strategist, but barely older-looking than Noctis himself. Maybe Gladio’s age. By the gods. “Is there perhaps a name I can address you with? Calling you Sagefire seems… unbefitting, considering you’ll be staying here for a while.”_

_The young man’s smile remained._

“ _Of course. You may call me,” and for a second the world stood still, “Ignis.”_


	3. The First Week

_The first shock subsides after a few moments. The Chancellor has sauntered off to another Lucian noble; Noctis barely manages to recognise Izunia’s next victim as a distant relative of the Amicitias, a middle-aged woman who specialises in economy. Sagefire’s smile fades slowly, and his confident expression changes into something mildly worried._

“ _Your Highness?”_

_For just a moment Noctis sees himself stand in a door again, his pillow in his hands and a tired voice asking the same thing from the bed in the room. Not that he remembers any details from back then; the details are just as dusty as the room is by now._

_He shakes his head slightly, his sight going from blurry to scarily sharp again. He notices Gladio from across the room staring at him._

“ _Ah, my… my apologies.”_

“ _No,” the Niff says, “you needn’t apologise. If it was something I said, then tell me so.”_

“ _No, no. Not something you said.” Gladio peels himself away from his current engagement and starts walking towards him and Sagefire, and Noctis internally panics a little. “I suppose I’m just… tired. Yeah, tired.”_

_Sagefire – no, Niflheim’s Ignis – blinks a few times and bows. He still looks rather shocked, and Gladio clearing his throat behind him only adds to that shock. Well, perhaps it is more that Gladio accidentally (or knowingly?) approached him from his blind side. Only fully trained warriors can overcome something like that, and somehow Noctis does not believe that Sagefire is a fully trained soldier despite his looks._

“ _Noct, everything okay?”_

_Ignis steps away from Gladio, clearly trying to avoid any physical contact and trouble, and keeps his mouth shut._

“ _Yeah, it’s all fine,” Noctis says in a hurry, trying to smother any incoming fury from his Shield. “Anyway, as Chancellor Izunia just introduced me; Strategist Sagefire. Ignis, that’s Gladiolus Amicitia.”_

_Understanding flashes across Gladio’s face as he turns to Ignis, and the Niff offers his hand._

“ _A pleasure to meet you, Lord Amicitia.”_

_Gladio looks at the hand for a moment before returning the greeting. Then he narrows his eyes._

“ _Sagefire, huh? Would’ve expected you to be… older. More physically impressive.”_

_Uh-oh._

_For a split second, Noctis expects an explosion right here. Gladio of all people knows how utterly destructive a Sagefire tactic is, and that one should never underestimate their opponent based on looks. This is a thinly-veiled challenge, one that Ignis understands. For a moment the Niff’s eyes narrow, but then he lets out a soft laugh. It is the most dangerous sound Noctis ever heard._

“ _Underestimate me all you want, Lord Amicitia – you are correct. Physically unimpressive. Mangled. Memory’s spotty at best. You got me there. That doesn’t have to mean I can’t take you in single combat. I am a strategist for a reason.”_

_Noctis wrings his hands, Gladio glares, and Sagefire coughs._

“ _A-anyway.” Noctis folds his hands. “There’s no reason for you to fight, right? It’s not like he’s gonna hurt me.”_

* * *

It was slightly surreal to come face-to-face with the Niffs again the next morning. Emperor Aldercapt made a point in trying to be difficult, staying away from most things. Noctis on the other hand nearly immediately ran into Ignis again, the Niff standing in the hallway looking slightly lost. But the moment he saw the prince, his face lit up a little and something inside Noctis started screaming in agony. This single green eye was so familiar that it hurt, and the name was the same and – he was almost definitely making this up. Ignis was a fairly common name in Lucis, and perhaps a lot rarer in Niflheim but it was a name that people gave their children regardless. There was no way. Ignis Scientia was dead after all – this was Ignis Sagefire.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

“M-morning. Just. Just Noctis is fine.”

“Prince Noctis, then. Did you sleep well?”

“Did _you?_ You’re the guy who left home and country for… the enemy stronghold basically.”

His laugh was soft, and though he looked like he had just rolled out of bed himself, there was a sparkle in his eye that was… positively bewitching.

“A bed remains a bed, no matter which side of the conflict it is on. Besides, after this treaty is signed, we will no longer be enemies, strictly speaking.”

As far as Noctis was concerned, he had never wanted to be enemies in the first place, but he wasn’t going to tell that to a man who had single-handedly managed to wipe out entire Glaive squadrons with as few losses on his side as possible.

He wanted to say something, but another Niff came marching around the corner. It was the same man that Ardyn and Ignis had been with the other night, the one that had marched off. He narrowed his eyes a little before bowing, his dislike for the situation at large rather clear in his eyes. “Good morning, Your Highness.” At least he managed to keep his hatred out of his voice.

“Good morning.”

Ignis blinked a couple of times, clearly trying to think of something else to say. He looked from Noctis to the other Niff, then back again.

“Oh.” Understanding flashed across his face. “Of course. Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum; my brother Loqi Tummelt.”

Noctis nodded slowly, and the newcomer Niff nodded as well. It was about as friendly a greeting as he expected out of that young man. They made small talk about how their first night in Lucis as guests was, and eventually Loqi said that he needed to find Chancellor Izunia and stalked off again. Ignis looked like a weight had been removed from his shoulder.

“Your… brother, huh. I mean I guess you look similar enough but… too same-age-ish for just brothers. You twins or something? Does that mean your last name’s Tummelt?”

Ignis closed his eyes with a sigh and crossed his arms. “Surrogate brother would be a better word, I presume. He’s the son of a noble, I’m the commoner son of that man’s commoner friend that the noble helped raise. And no, unlike Lucis commoners in Niflheim do not necessarily bother with last names unless they sign up for the military. And even then they are usually given one. Hence Sagefire. It’s not a codename – it’s my official last name.”

“… Sounds messy.”

“Works the best for our population. There’s so many people, it would all get muddled up no matter whether we have last names or not.”

Noctis, despite knowing better, noticed one thing about this. It meant that it was easy enough to slide people in and out and just claim them as nameless commoners.

Oh, Gladio would kill him for thinking that, especially about a man who clearly was an enemy. But Noctis had sworn that he would be friendly to them, and Sagefire seemed the most approachable out of the entire Niff group currently in the Citadel. Well, other than the Chancellor.

But something about that guy was… off. Unhinged in a strange way.

* * *

_There’s something strange going on in the Citadel, and Noctis can’t really put a finger on what it is. A day passes in relative peace – as peaceful as the heads of two warring nations can be. He’s fully aware of the situation being a millisecond away from exploding, but somehow Commodore Highwind manages to intervene before the fuse lights properly. He has no idea what any of this means, but a trembling Niff seeing red likely is not a good thing. Too bad that Commodore Highwind whisks that Niff away before she can explain anything._

_Which leaves him with Gladio and Prompto. Nyx. Cor and Ignis._

_The Marshal is definitely sizing up Sagefire. Nyx did so earlier, though his conclusion is that Sagefire might be intelligent but he’s not a fully trained fighter and therefore easy to disable should things go south for some reason. But Noctis knows that Cor is definitely one of the more strategically inclined people of the front line who are not specifically strategists. It’s Chancellor Izunia who shoos Sagefire away, but Cor remains with a deep frown. He watches them leave, and for a split second he and the chancellor make eye contact as the man whisks around a corner._

“ _Cor?”_

_He cringes slightly, as if Noctis’ voice disturbs him somehow. It’s pretty rare for Cor to cringe like that, especially when it’s Noctis who talks to him._

“ _Yes, Your Highness?”_

“ _Is something the matter?”_

_The Marshal pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes with a sigh. “Yes, but you needn’t worry. Just a very uncomfortable case of… deja-vu.”_

_He walks off after that, not explaining a thing, and leaves Noctis with his friends and the Glaive. Nyx shifts his weight from one foot to the other, repeatedly. He also seems to be thinking about something._

_Therefore Noctis decides to ask his friends to get him back to his room, to which Prompto jokingly asks if he’s too tired to get there himself – or just too lazy. Admittedly there were some cases like that in the past, but this time Noctis only shakes his head and says that he needs to talk to them in private and them being in his room makes more sense when he pretends he’s tired and needs the help._

_Gladio closes the door behind them and immediately crosses his arms when he arrives. “I feel like I know what you’re about to say and. No.”_

“ _...” He stays quiet, noticing the confused look Prompto has on his face right now._

“ _You’ve got to accept that this entire situation’s over and done. It’s gonna sound so fucking brutal, but you’ve got to accept that Ignis probably broke every bone in his body and died tumbling into that chasm, and was then dragged away by local wildlife before anyone even thought of looking into that chasm.”_

_Noctis swears he can see the stars above and the fire rising into the night sky, can see Ignis rolling further away because he does not have an adult weighing him down. Noctis had focused on his father back then, and Ignis… was gone. Gladio says correctly that he’s gone, but it doesn’t have to mean…_

“ _And even so,” and suddenly Gladio’s voice is softer, “if he were alive, he’d have tried coming back. Or would at least be living in Lucis. I know it’s a weird coincidence, but it’s just that. A coincidence.”_

_Nyx and Prompto now understand what this is about, and Prompto stares at the ground very pointedly. He’s only ever heard stories about Ignis, that kid who died way too young and in a way that broke his entire family apart. That was something that quite a few commoners said awaited those who served the crown, and something that they told Prompto time and time again would happen. Either he dies, or someone he loves dies, and it tears his family apart._

_Nyx has no one left to lose other than his friends, and those mad people all signed up for the Kingsglaive anyway because they, too, have nothing left to lose. In turn they could gain everything once the war is over. While they don’t necessarily agree with the peace treaty’s terms, something about the Kingsglaive seems to have changed to be more accepting recently. But he, too, understands what’s going through Noctis’ head. Which makes his reaction all the more fascinating._

_He taps his chin. “I dunno about that, Lordling Amicitia. We still have no idea how that daemon ever got there; we can’t hold Niflheim accountable for anything. We also found all corpses of that night – except for that kid that His Highness misses so much. ‘Sides, you never let His Highness speak. So, what’s on your mind?”_

_Noctis fiddles with his shirt a little before sighing deeply. He rolls the wheelchair up to the bed and gets himself out of it and onto said bed. “He said that Niffs don’t have last names unless they’re noble. Easier for the population or something. But without last names it’s… extremely easy to forge an identity.”_

_Gladio shakes his head a little._

_It’s Prompto who speaks up after a moment of silence. “That’s… all fine and makes sense, Noct, but… think about the logistics. They’d have to retrieve Ignis before any of our people ever went looking for him. That’s a timeframe of… what’d they say, an hour? An hour between the king saving you and people from the Citadel arriving at the site to retrieve the corpses. If there were an airship close by, those people would have noticed. Besides, like Gladio said… if Ignis were alive, there’s no doubt he’d have tried getting back to Insomnia somehow. Even if they had kidnapped him, what are the chances of him accepting being Sagefire that easily?”_

_Noctis crosses his arms and shrinks a little. “I guess. But there’s another thing. You’ve all seen Sagefire, yeah? What if that guy is Ignis, and he’s been tortured to the point his mind broke?”_

_Uncomfortable silence._

_They all know Niflheim is their enemy, technically. But they all don’t want to believe that someone would torture children just to have them accept a change of identity. And Niflheim commands no magic powers whatsoever._

_What Noctis is suggesting is outrageous. He knows that as well._

“… _Fine, alright. It’s just one of Gladio’s weird coincidences. But… I dunno. Something about him is still off, and whether he’s the Ignis I think he is or not, I wanna investigate that.”_

* * *

The gardens were as quiet as they always had been. The Niffs didn’t seem especially fond of flowers and trees, and most of them were focused on trying to leave some sort of impression on Emperor Aldercapt. Noctis hated that guy; there was something definitely disturbing about him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something. _Something._ But no one else seemed to notice the way that man looked at Noctis and his father—like some animal ready to pounce.

His mother had been responsible for this garden. It had turned into quite a wild zone with its caretaker long dead, but his father had requested that outside of necessary care not a single employee was to mess with this garden in particular. A wild zone that drowned out the noise of the Citadel, a quiet place that was awash in plants that were growing wildly in the absence of the queen. Noctis loved the place. It had already been his favourite place in the Citadel back when he had been a kid; Ignis too had enjoyed coming here and watching how not interfering with the plants changed the way they grew. Nowadays people just called it the Queen’s Jungle rather than the actual name on the maps of the Citadel. Noctis called it a personal retreat—as did his father.

It was also just about the only place that no one ever accidentally found their way into. Thus, everyone had deemed it safe enough for him to go on his own as long as he made certain no Niff followed him.

Which made the fact that someone apparently found him just about even worse.

Noctis had been enjoying the afternoon sun underneath his mother’s favourite tree when he heard footsteps. He angrily snapped his eyes open to see who exactly was intruding upon his favourite place in the Citadel.

For a hot second he felt like he had been transported back in time, to a half-forgotten memory where he pulled Ignis Scientia into this garden one afternoon to point out one of the flowers that his mother had never gotten to bloom had finally bloomed. Maybe as a last farewell or something, because it was also the anniversary of her death that very day. But this wasn’t Ignis Scientia standing in the garden and looking around with a rather confused expression on his face—this was the Niflheim strategist Ignis Sagefire having somehow found his way into here. And apparently he wasn’t aware of Noctis’ presence.

Perhaps it would have been smarter to stay quiet; this garden was rather off the beaten path and if anyone had been ordered to kill the Prince of Lucis at the earliest convenience this would have been the perfect opportunity. But Noctis narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Not many first-time visitors find this place without having their eyes glued to the map.”

The man _flinched,_ as if the had been torn out of deep thought. He looked around some, but couldn’t exactly see Noctis from his position.

“Prince Noctis?”

“Maybe. How the _hell_ did _you_ find this place, Sagefire? Were you following me?”

He didn’t mean to sound so hostile—Sagefire had been the least offending man in the week since the Niffs had arrived. He was always perfectly polite, showed genuine interest in what shreds of history the Lucians offered, and seemed to drink it all up as if he had been lost in the desert and was parched now. The rest of the people weren’t that friendly and definitely not interested in Lucian history or whatever the hell the Chosen King prophecy was supposed to be about. Noctis nearly joked about the gods clearly having thought better of it because he hadn’t heard of anything magical or godly since the day the Oracle died. But he had thought better of it because of the terrified glance Prompto had shot him and because of the fact that he could see the fires consuming the forest, could see Luna letting go of his father’s hand, could hear Ravus screaming in the background as the bullets all narrowly missed him and his fleeing father.

“I… I wasn’t following you, Your Highness.”

“Swear it upon whatever you Niffs hold dearest.”

Sagefire shook his head and sat down. He was completely unarmed and even he knew that Noctis was a rather accurate mage. He even went as far as to put his hands flat on the ground as he sat there.

“I swear it upon whatever we Niffs hold dearest and upon what you Lucians hold dearest.”

“How’d you find this place, then?”

There was a long, awkward pause. The wind went through the leaves and bushes and for a long moment all Noctis heard was the ever familiar and ever comforting silence of the Queen’s Jungle around him.

Then Ignis cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying, Prince Noctis. I just had a feeling I would be finding something if I went down that hallway, and through this one door in particular, but what I would find, I have no idea.” Another pause, though less awkward and less long this time. Then Ignis laughed. “Though I suppose I did find you.”

Noctis tensed, not that Ignis could see that—Ignis also couldn’t see the fact that Noctis was turning red. “Flattery will not get you anywhere.”

“Perhaps not in Lucis, no.”

For an hour or so, they continued sitting where they were in silence. Noctis had to admit he quite enjoyed that; Sagefire knew when to remain quiet and when to say things. And since it would have only been small talk about the garden, he instead chose to be quiet. A lot of people in the Citadel could learn from that—they always tried to continue speaking with the prince, even if the conversation had long since turned awkward.

Eventually, however, Noctis moved from his place underneath the tree and back to the middle of the room where Ignis was still sitting. The man kept his head bowed as one was supposed to do in the presence of royalty, and were he not a Niff, Noctis would have snorted. But this situation remained rather dangerous for him and perfect for an assassination for Sagefire. But the man made no move.

Maybe he could be trusted, Gladio’s coincidences or not.

“Seriously though, you can tell me if you followed me.”

“Eh?”

“Just means I gotta get better at moving around unseen. You’re not in trouble.”

Finally Sagefire looked up with surprise plastered on his face, and then something rather uncomfortable glinting in his eyes. “No. I swear I was not following you.”

“There’s gotta be a reason other than ‘I felt like it’, though. The Queen’s Jungle is the most out of the way place in the Citadel.”

Ignis looked around and repeated the name Noctis had given him quietly. Then he stood back up, looked around some more.

Then he screwed his face up and put a hand on his temples. That was… a rather strong reaction, and Noctis wasn’t entirely sure how tor react to that. “A-Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a headache. Nothing to worry that royal head of yours about. Not contagious.”

“Well, duh. Seriously though, what gives?”

Ignis sat back down, and Noctis leaned out of his wheelchair to make sure that the man was alright as he had claimed. Extremely stupid moves; his guard was down enough that he heard Gladio’s nagging voice in the back of his head that a prince was not supposed to look at commoners on the ground.

The Niff sighed gently and pinched the bridge of his nose. Noctis hadn’t noticed that there was a small scar across it; or the fact that he had a split eyebrow and a split lip. All those scars….

“Is it related to how you got these injuries?”

“I suppose. Whatever the reason, I’ve forgotten. Heard memory loss can cause headaches in certain cases, but….”

* * *

“ _Wait, you’re serious?”_

“ _As serious as I can be, Noctis.”_

_He can’t help but crack a smile at his father after this. The peace treaty means that Noctis will be able to leave, especially now that he has his father’s permission. Maybe he can disguise it as meeting the Oracle when Luna inevitably travels the country when it falls to the empire. A gesture of trusting the peace, something that will show the people that there’s nothing to fear._

“ _I… didn’t expect you to humour the—“_

_Regis folds his hands, an unreadable expression on his face. “When I was your age, I was on a trip myself. It would be rather ridiculous to forbid you from going with the peace treaty being a thing while I travelled through battlefields.” He smiles now, but something’s slightly off about it. “Though I do suppose you might have to deal with having an emissary along.”_

_Noctis waves a hand through the air. “I can deal with them here, I can deal with one on the road.”_

_His father nods. “Was there anything else you needed?”_

_The room’s atmosphere is as relaxing as ever. The king’s private chambers, something that only the people closest to him are allowed to enter. The safest room in the Citadel other than Noctis’ own room, but one that offers him more comfort than anything else. After all, it’s his father’s room._

_But this time Noctis shifts uncomfortably. He avoided talking about this for the longest time, mostly because his memory is just that fuzzy. It traumatised him, it traumatised his father, it traumatised the people who were sent to deal with the leftovers of the situation on hand. It doesn’t help that the Daemon is likely still out there, all coiled up and ready to strike should it ever get close to Noctis again. And this time there’s no nanny to catch the blow for him. That’s why Regis said that while Noctis might be allowed to go after the treaty is signed but under no circumstances allowed to travel around at night._

“ _It’s about a Niff.”_

_Regis raises an eyebrow. There were jokes amongst the upper class people after the first day that Prince Noctis might have developed a crush on Commodore Highwind—because honestly, who wouldn’t?_

“ _No, not Commodore Highwind. It’s about Sagefire.”_

_His father nods, his expression getting a little more… dire-looking. There’s a heavy lump in his throat as he looks at Regis and the man says nothing._

“ _Gladio says it’s all coincidence, but… his name’s Ignis. He’s got memory loss and doesn’t remember a thing about his childhood. With the empire being the empire, it would be super easy to sneak in someone and pass them off as commoner, and—“_

“ _So you assume he is… Ignis Scientia.” Noctis opens his mouth, but his father shakes his head and continues speaking. “I’ve had someone voice a similar suspicion, but that’s irrelevant. Let’s say he is Ignis Scientia and not Ignis, commoner from Niflheim. Say he remembers and you offer him coming back to Lucis. What do you_ assume _happens?”_

_Noctis blinks. “What? I don’t… understand.”_

_Regis sighs. “There’s nothing here for him but you. Back in Niflheim, he has a family and a life—he’s got nothing here, absolutely nothing but you. That exact same set-up drove Cor to join the Crownsguard as early as he did. There was nothing for him at home, but here he could get everything.”_

_Noctis blinks a few times. He understands, of course._

“ _That is, of course, assuming this is not one of the Amicitia’s favourite coincidences.”_

“ _Those happen a lot, huh,” Noctis says, and his father laughs. “Well, I’ll… I’ll still try figuring out if it’s Ignis Scientia or really Ignis Sagefire. If he's Scientia, I'll be happy. And then I’ll… let him go back to his new home. If he wants to stay, then he can stay, though.”_

“ _Well, we do have another week before the treaty signing.”_ _He nods, and his father closes his eyes. “Just don’t do anything rash, Noctis.”_

“ _Don’t worry, the only person’s feet I’ll be rolling over are Emperor Aldercapt’s—and then I’ll make it look like an honest accident. Okay, no, maybe Loqi Tummelt as well. But that’s all of them.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bad thing about giving up on nano properly is, now i want to finish this, then encore and hesperus, and work on something extremely familiar to... a lot of you guys, assuming you read something Else of mine.
> 
> next up, a completely different pov!


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